#saviour complex

[straight-up-theming-it]

genuine sunstone angst

headcanon: sunstone's tears vaporize the second they touch her flame

and then they hug

@daofromwithin

[mooonyagedaydream]

"all the bad dreams that you hide. show me yours, and i'll show you mine,"

but its remus and sirius in their first year realizing that they both have scars

[jiraisupportgroup]

[dudududubadwriting]

Castiel: You don't want Dean to die.

Castiel: And I don't want Dean to die.

Castiel: So, now we just have to make sure Dean doesn't want Dean to die.

Y/N: Fantastic plan, but have you met Dean?

[idrkwhattoputheretbh]

Imagine in which physio reader finds Elliot Anderson dying of muscle cramp in the shower... and helps him

No smut in this one

"Y/n. Please. Do something."

A pair of hands slammed onto your desk, tension turning the fingers white, jolting you out of your stupor.

Glancing up unamused from your session notes, you took in the vexed expression of Anthony Gordon, pressing all his weight onto your desk in the training camp med wing as if it could ground him somehow.

"Gordon? What's wrong? I've already seen you for your recovery session?" You queried, concern crinkling your brow. Now was not the time for anymore suprise injuries.

"Its not me," he replied as though the fact was obvious. "Elliot. He won't listen to me, he won't listen to Dan, he's been moping for days. And, I keep seeing him grabbing his leg when he thinks noones watching," Gordon threw out, enunciated melodramatically with theatric hand gestures.

Ah. You recalled Anderson had picked up a minor strain from the Argentina match, after being on the receiving end of one too many fouls, and you thought you'd resolved any pain when you'd treated him at the time. Apparently something plagued him still.

"Sure, sure, I'll look into it, thanks for bringing it to me, Anthony," you replied, dismissing him, and returning to your notes, firing off emails and updating plans. The Role of team physio was as much admin as it was physical treatment.

Hauling yourself out of your chair, you went in search of Elliot Anderson.

He'd been illusive since the last match, and members of the training camp helped narrow your search, reporting last sightings of him disappearing into his room some time ago.

Knocking lightly on his door, you called his name, before testing the door and finding it unlocked.

Nudging it open, not wanting to intrude but unsure if he'd heard you, you stuck your head into the room, and called his name out again.

Your only response was the sound of water running from the adjacent bathroom, tendrils of steam beckoning from the cracked-open door. But no sign of the actual footballer himself.

You paused in the main doorway, pricking your ears for signs of life, intrusive unsettling thoughts of Elliot having slipped and knocked himself out piercing your mind.

A pained groan, muffled by the water, met your ears.

Feeling your stomach do that distinct flutter, you took another hesitant step into the room. Another noise: you recognised this from your physio sessions as an agonised whimper forced through clenched teeth.

"Anderson? You ok?," you called out louder, wanting to make your invasion known.

There was a thud as if a bottle had been knocked over or someone's elbow had collided with the wall, before a shaky "y/n?" Came through the adjar door.

"Yeah..its me.. sorry to catch you off guard like this, Gordon thought there was something wrong with you.. Sorry for intruding, I'll come back later," you rushed out in a bashful haste. You turned to leave, a wave of clarity reprimanding you that the longer you lingered, the more unprofessional this got.

"Y/n- wait- Ah- wait..." came the quick response.

You paused, hand on the door handle between you and pretending this never happened.

"y/n... I need you... can you come in here, please?" It sounded like each word pained him to breath out, a hint of desperation creeping into his plea at the end.

Ah, the point of no return.

You shut the bedroom door with a resounding click, making your way hesitantly to the bathroom door, and nudging it open with your foot.

Taking in the sight before you, you were acutely aware your cheeks were burning red.

Elliot was hunched on the floor, body coiled with tension, just out of the spray of the shower. One leg sprawled before him, the other bent at the knee.

His fingers were digging into his calf with the same intensity as trying to squeeze every ounce of juice out a lemon.

A towel had been haphazardly tucked across his waist in a rushed attempt to preserve his dignity. It did nothing to stop your eyes tracing the contours and angles of his muscled body of their own accord.

Droplets of water dripped from his hair down the torso smattered with freckles, and your wide eyes locked on them like a kitten following a laser.

You swallowed hard. This was seriously not helping the soft spot you'd developed for him.

Elliot gave out an anguished moan, slamming his head back to hit the wall in frustration, as though creating pain there would pull it away from his leg.

Catching your gaze, his eyes wallowing in helplessness and conveying the depths of his torment, "please, y/n, do something, I don't know whats wrong with it, it just keeps seizing" he trailed off.

Damn. He looked so... vulnerable. Your heart ached for him.

With a great power you did not know you possessed, you buried your churning embarrassment and knelt carefully beside him, feeling a static in the air jumping between your clothed body, and his naked glistening one.

"May I?" You murmured, reaching out to the calf he was grasping so tightly.

He relented his grip, and you maneuvered his leg straight, moving with the utmost caution so as not to disturb the towel.

However, the corner of the treacherous cloth had another agenda, slipping from his thigh down between his legs. You cursed internally, momentarily gripping his leg harder, making him wince and shift under the pain. Fortunately, it still covered him. Unfortunately, in such a lewd figure-hugging way that your imagination did not even have to try in order to conjure images of what lay beneath.

Compelling the shreds of your composure, you shook the images from your mind and focused on the task at hand.

You began working your thumbs hard into the muscle, testing for weak spots. As you mapped out the cords of muscle, you tuned in to every sharp inhale, every small grunt, each tightening and tensing of his other limbs, assessing the scale and origin of the injury.

Having determined the severity as just a bad cramp brought on by sudden movement in the already overly knotted muscle, you changed tact, making swooping motions across his lower leg, massaging out the injury, coaxing the tendons.

"So. Want to tell me why you didn't come to me sooner?"

"I didn't think it was- ah-" his whole body seized and he writhed slightly as your dextrous fingers prodded a particularly sensitive spot, his body caving in on itself, "a big deal," he finished off, sullen.

You suspected there was a deeper issue at hand following England's exit of the World Cup. It wasn't unknown for players to endure an injury as a kind of self-induced-purgatory, thinking everything was their fault and by suffering through an injury it'd make them feel better about the loss.

"Mm," you murmured in assent, your unimpressed tone telling him you were unconvinced. Feeling as though you'd already crossed enough boundaries today, you opted to indulge his excuse for now.

"Well let this be a lesson to you then. You're no help to anyone if you can hardly move. You get hurt, you tell me, and I'll fix it. Its what I was hired for. I don't want to catch you nursing your own injuries again, yeah? let alone finding you immobilised on the bathroom floor."

Elliot pouted in response to the chastising, and your heart clenched at his expression. He looked like a kicked puppy. You dug deeper into his flesh, prompting him to flinch and hiss out a "Yeah, yeah, sure."

Deeming his leg fine, you sat back on your heels, watching him flex his feet, testing out his rejuvenated leg.

He beamed up at you, "thanks y/n," grin splitting his face, and you smiled back on autopilot.

Now free of pain he appeared to suddenly become aware of the situation.

Coming to his senses his face surrendered to a crimson blush, and he reached down for the safety of the towel, clutching it more securely.

"Right, right, you know where to find me" you rushed out, tripping over your feet in your scramble to get out.

Once free from the confines of the bathroom, you allowed yourself to release a breath, hearing the shower turn back on. What you needed, was ten minutes in dark room, regaining control of your wandering imagination.

[cutesx4]

i want to comfort someone

[bununiii]

when pheobe bridgers said “do you feel ashamed, when you hear my name” and when pheobe bridgers said “you’re holding me like water in your hands” and when pheobe bridgers said “i know it’s for the better know it’s for the better know it’s for the better know it’s for the better know it’s for the better know it’s for the better know it’s for the better know it’s for the better know it’s for the better know it’s for the better know it’s for the better know it’s for the better know it’s for the better know it’s for the better know it’s for the better know it’s for the better”

[aurae-rori]

Okay. So no pressure if you don't want to, but can you elaborate more on your headcannoning[?] Ratio having a savior complex? Your character analysis are really good so I was just wondering how you see this.

no worries, it's absolutely no pressure - i love talking about this! and thank you so much, i'm so glad that you enjoy my stuff, so let's get right into it.

a saviour complex is defined as "an attitude and demeanour in which a person believes they are responsible for assisting other people." this doesn't mean that people with saviour complexes are necessarily stuck up and believe that they are noble for doing what they do, it just means that they feel like they must help other people. it can stem from feelings like "if i can't, nobody can!" or, alternatively, "i have no worth if i don't help people, this is what i'm meant to do." in helping other people at the expense of the self, it can help the person with the complex feel valued, wanted, loved, and as if they have a purpose.

as someone who does have a saviour complex (and is working on it in therapy, so i'm doing fine - it's much better than it used to be), i can say in past experiences, this has led me to become a sort of mentor figure to other people in my life. although i will never regret becoming an older sibling figure for the people i care about, the reason why i became a "teacher" was rooted in both my own desire to help other people, and also in my need to be validated.

so basically, it all comes down to this - if i don't help other people, i have no value, so therefore, i am useless. this can quickly spiral into suicidal tendencies and should be stopped as soon as possible, but that's a different topic.

the reason why i hc ratio with a saviour complex is because i see a lot of my own behaviours in him. he became an educator to push people to their limits but also because he cares about humanity. being a teacher means bearing responsibility - the same responsibility that someone with a saviour complex will put on themselves. a person with a saviour complex will always place the needs of others over themselves, (choosing humanity over the gaze of an aeon). he seems to also be a perfectionist and berates himself for being unable to meet a standard (which can also reflect into relationships, where a person with a saviour complex will beat themselves up for being unable to help the person they were attempting to 'save'.)

upon failure of being able to help someone or solve their problems, i find that usually what i've seen is that people fall into spirals of depression and self-deprecation, blaming themselves for the issues of others. we don't know how dr ratio canonically feels about failing about 97% of his classes even though he calls them idiots, but he seems to genuinely care about his students and their education. so i like to believe that on some level, just like i used to, he blames himself when people cannot progress. that's not canon though. just a hc.

anyway, taking on massive amounts of responsibility (trying to cure the entire universe of idiocy) and attempting to further help other people through any means possible, even to the point of neglecting yourself (and although ratio says that a relaxation-working life must be balanced, i used to be a hypocrite about that so he can be a hypocrite about it too) and pushing yourself far past what you must.

anyway, i hope this clears up why i hc him with a saviour complex (from someone that unfortunately has one).

i also ask that people don't say 'are you okay?' if you read this post, because i am! you are absolutely allowed to ask me about my experience as a person who has a saviour complex (as long as you're not rude about it) and i will definitely drop more specific hcs about saviour complex ratio if you want to see more.

hope this was worded okay! :)